Dear Diary--posted by anaG on 10/9/2007

This is an idea that came to me on the commute from work, when the iPod shuffled onto “The Diary of Jane”. *g…wonder how that ended up on there…*

So anyway, here goes…and as always feedback is appreciated--AG

****

February --, 200-

I cannot honestly believe that I writing in a diary. Seems like it is such a waste of time when there are cases to work, a book to write, skeletons waiting to be identified. What will be next—one of those web clog journal things? But, as with so much, I am doing this because of Booth. Well, his therapist really. The earth must be tilting on its axis! First, I agreed to go to a few counseling sessions with Booth. Now, this. The good doctor says that this is an exercise for bringing the subconscious thoughts to the surface. Psychology. He must have seen the expression on my face though, because he quickly came up with the idea that this could be a record of my work, source material for the next novel. Of course, I am not so blind that I couldn’t see that he was being manipulative…but I did agree in the end. Don’t know why…maybe getting a little tired of being labeled as stubborn. I can compromise. Really. The truth is that despite the fact that he would never admit it, these sessions seem to mean something to B., and he is my partner. I suppose a few sentences a day can’t hurt.

So, I have kept my word and written my first entry. Enough for one day. Cam is shooting dirty looks towards my office. That woman is just…! Nevertheless, I do have real work to do. At least I have their word that no one but me has to read this. I am thinking though that a password on this file might not be a bad idea…

—T.B.

***

So…worth pursuing?

Having fun with this one, seeing what might be going on in her head when no one is "looking". Welcome all feedback, esp if something seems too OOC -AG

***

February --, 200-

Just finished editing Zach’s article for the Journal of Forensic Anthropology on the difficulties of using epiphesyal fusions to establish age in the skeletonized remains of victims of Hutchinson-Gilford Progeria syndrome. Really fascinating; I am so proud of Zach. His first cover story for the Journal!

-T.B.



February --, 200-

Okay, can somebody please tell me why I never get to drive? I am a good driver. I even printed out my driving record from the DMV to show him. Facts are facts, right? He just walked straight to the driver’s door and said “Bones, seeing something in black and white doesn’t necessarily make it true.” Infuriating alpha-male behavior.

-T.B.

February --, 200-

It has been an exhausting day. I spent the morning piecing together the skull of a young woman, a grad student from Georgetown. Seeing her face when Angela finished her drawing was... haunting. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was at that same point, feeling as if my whole life in front of me. So many opportunities. Not that I don’t love what I do, more than ever since I have been working with Booth to solve these cases. There is nothing more satisfying that giving someone that is lost back to their families. But when I saw the expression on her fiancée’s face…B. said later that I was very good about not blurting out too much detail when the poor kid asked if she had suffered. The truth is that I wondering if anyone would ever miss me like that if I was gone. All of this time in the lab, working all of the time. Could not get the thought out of my head, even at dinner tonight with Sully. Sitting across from him, watching him eat all I could think was that I am just marking time here.

I am so glad that no one else can read this. This is supposed to be notes on my work. Way too much time in Gordon Gordon’s office lately. Enough of all of this feelings stuff. Facts only, Brennan…

-T.B.

February --, 200-

I said facts. So here is a fact. I cannot figure out what is going on in that man’s head. Partners are supposed to share. His idea. On the way to the crime scene today, I tell him that I ended things with Sully. You would think my partner could show a little sympathy. It just didn’t feel right, and I don’t think I could have taken one more meal with a grown man that has yet to master chewing with his mouth closed. Still, I just ended a relationship. So, where was the sympathy? I think the man had a smile on his face the whole day. All I got was a “Aw,so sorry to hear that, Bones” before he puts on his sunglasses and smiles. You would think he would at least have let me drive…..

-T.B.

Booth's Journal

02.0-

She broke up with Sully.

-S.B.

**grins in delight after reading reviews** Thanks, guys, it seriously helps to keep the ideas coming. Hope this one is worthy. Life on the cubicle farm was not very conducive for the imagination as the boss lady decided to bare her fangs today. Had to coax musie from behind the copy machine. --belle

***

Brennan’s Journal

February --, 20—

Today was the final day of testimony in the Johnston case. Most days I like testifying in court. There is of course knowing that this is the final step of bringing justice to the victims that I have examined. And as I tried to explain to Booth on the drive back, court proceedings are very civilized, have very logical progression. Facts are presented. Everyone gets their turn to explain. The only thing that I don’t like is the defense attorney. Present them all of the empirical evidence in the world and they still try to cover it up with inference and insinuation.

Perfect example today with that snaky defense counsel. He implied that I was trying to skew the evidence and confuse the jury by using a lot of big words. Very annoying snaky slimy little man. But I was the calm professional and told him that objectively, I didn’t think it had anything to do with the size of the words but how you used them. I don’t know why but the entire courtroom laughed. Even the judge. I don’t understand why, I was being “objective” not funny. Maybe I do have a sense of humor! Even if I didn’t mean to.

—T.B.

February --, 20—

Have terrible cold and wasn’t going to write tonight. But Booth was just by for a visit and I felt guilty about not keeping my promise. He was very helpful tonight, bringing chicken soup and a gift that he said was guaranteed to make me feel better. Bunny slippers! Pink, fluffy slippers with ears and a face. I never had bunny slippers before. Silly little things, but I can’t help but feel better every time I look at my feet. He even named them. The left is Fred and the right is Ginger. Or is it the other way around? He said that I should wear them once I was feeling well enough to dance around the living room again. He always seems to know what to say when I am not feeling so great. That is one of the things that I love about him. In a purely platonic way. Of course.

—T.B.

February --, 20—

I get to be Roxy again! I like being Roxy, and for some reason Booth likes her a great deal. We are going undercover in Atlantic City, and he insisted that he needed Roxy to be there in order to pull this off. He was like a child on Christmas morning when we went shopping for some costumes for the case. And he was adamant that I had to try everything on. I still don’t know about that strapless dress, but that charm smile is impossible to resist. Which he knows, of course. But I did draw the line at the four inch stilettos. Really, what was he thinking?

But still excited. Maybe I can sneak away for a game of crap!

***

From the Journal of Seeley Booth

2/--

A trip to AC with Roxy. Don’t know what will be harder to resist, the casinos or her in that strapless number. There is something about the way the woman wears that dress that makes that line I’ve drawn get very blurry. Can’t let it happen. Too d_mn much to lose if something goes wrong. Just remember, this is about the case, not her. Yeah, right, man. Just keep telling yourself that.

-SB

Okay. Gets a little serious for a minute, but the last entry is worth it….I think. It is either funny or just very… very… wrong. –belle

***

Brennan’s Journal

March --, 20—

No, no, no. Can’t believe it. I kissed Booth. No, Roxy kissed Booth. Oh, no, what did I do? He hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since it happened. What was Roxy thinking?

—T.B.



From the Journal of Seeley Booth

03/--

I froze. Years of training and I froze. We were out on the boardwalk, on our way to meet a CI that could help nail that creep Rollins. Some two-bit hustler with a Polaroid camera comes up to us wanting five bucks to take a picture of the happy couple. Like an idiot, I think what’s the harm in it, I’d like to have a picture of Tony and Roxy. Then the guy decides that he’s a director and starts talking about a little kiss for the camera. The exact moment that Rollins strolls along, looking way too interested in what was happening. And I act like a rookie on his first assignment. Our suspect is there getting suspicious about why Tony isn’t kissing the woman he is supposed to be in love with…And I Can’t Decide What To Do. A simple kiss to keep our cover from being blown. But nothing is simple when it comes to her. Kiss her, cross a line. Can’t undo it, can’t take it back. In the end, she was the one to keep her head on straight. Full-on Roxy. Tells Tony not to be so camera shy and she kissed me. Ten seconds, ten minutes. I couldn’t tell you. I was so… It was that good. Who am I kidding, it was better than good. But if just one kiss is like that, how am I going to maintain enough distance to protect her? I already let her down today with a suspect just feet away.

—SB



From Brennan’s Journal

March --. 20—

I think he is really mad. I don’t what I said to make it more awkward than it already was. On the flight back to D.C., I tried to talk to him about what happened on the boardwalk. Explain that it didn’t mean anything. It was in the line of duty. Taking one for the team. Told him to think of it like a guy hug, only it was a guy kiss. He just looked at me and then asked the flight attendant if they were serving alcohol on this flight.

—T.B.

So, so happy that everyone is enjoying. Couldn't do this without your encouragement. This one is short tonight, but should have more soon...musie has a wicked sweet tooth and is very pleased with chocolate marshmallows. --belle

Quick point to clarify entry below. Always see Brennan at laptop typing her entries. But for some reason,I just saw Booth going the classic route, writing out his thoughts...but anyway...I digress...

BBBB

>Booth’s Journal

>Peeking from between the pages of the closed wire-bound composition book is the slightly crumpled corner of a Polaroid photograph.

***

>From Brennan’s Journal

March --, 20—

Angela explained. Well first, she did something called a happy dance when I told her Roxy kissed Booth. But after I told her the rest of the story, she explained. Evidently, the guy kiss comment was not good. I think that is why he is so upset. He probably feels as if his masculinity and alpha male position in the social hierarchy has been called into question. That has to be why he didn't say anything for the rest of the flight. I think he may have actually flinched when I accidentally leaned against him while we waited at baggage claim. I can fix this though. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. I should do something to reassure him that his masculinity is intact. A little gift. He is always giving me little gifts to make me feel better. What can I give Booth to make him feel better? Maybe a new tie?

--TB

Two posts in one night. And this is a bit longer than the usual entries. But little miss musie is in full diva mode tonight and is refusing to come down from atop the china cabinet until she sees her idea in “print”….

A quick head’s up, Brennan has a “moment” here, and I think maybe I have her stray a tad out of character. But I’ve always reckoned that she was going to have to trip out of her comfort zone in order to get to this point.

As always, hope you enjoy and all feedback is most welcome. –belle

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>Brennan’s Journal

March --, 20—

I don’t even know who I am anymore. Logic, rationality, empiricism, science, facts. That is what I understand. That is who I am. No, that is who I was. I don’t recognize this person. Even scrolling through these journal entries, I don’t see a record of my work. It’s Booth. It’s all about Booth. How did that happen? Angela was right today. This scares me. Worse than creepy serial killer stalking me, scares me.

Why did she have to make so much sense today? I was pacing the office just angry at him, and frustrated because I didn’t understand why I was so…emotional. Poor A., she just could not get a word in sideways as I went on and on about how difficult and controlling he was lately. Don’t touch the radio, Brennan. No, you can’t drive, Brennan. Not the siren, Brennan. Stay in the car, this is too dangerous Brennan. Don’t kick the suspect, Brennan. Brennan, Brennan, Brennan. He’s supposed to call me Bones!

I actually forgot she was there, until I felt her touch my hand. I looked down to see the cover of the file folder I had been holding torn almost in half. I just stared at her, asking her what was wrong with me.

She made me sit down on the couch, take a deep breath. Since I’m all about the logic, she says that we are going to look at this logically. Asks me to describe my relationship with Booth in one word. Without using the word, “partner”. I started to get up and leave then, should have left then. But she asked me to give it a chance. One word. Easy, right? But it wasn’t so easy. I couldn’t think of a word that sounded right. Finally, “friend” sounded safe. I was surprised when she seemed to accept that answer. Then she asks me who my other friends are.. Angela, of course. Hodgins. Zach. Okay, good .Even though I had know idea where she was going with this, I was starting feel like I was back on firm ground. Until she asked what was the difference in my friendship with the three of them and my friendship with Booth. I started to answer right away, but she told me to really think about it for a minute. Think about what was different about the time that I spent with Booth. And I did. Bizarrely, the first image that pops into mind is Jasper sitting on the palm of his hand. I couldn’t understand-- why did that image come to mind? And then, I just knew. Jasper the little gift that he gave me at one of my lowest moments. Jasper who sits on the table next to my bed. Jasper who I carry around in the pocket of my robe when I am not feeling well. That makes me smile every time I look at him. I just knew.She must have seen the stunned expression on my face, because she just leaned in and hugged me. Don’t let this be true, Angela. I don’t want this to be true. She said that she understands it’s scary to admit, but promises it is a good kind of scary.

I don’t know how something that is scary can be good. But she’s partly right. I am scared. Because this could change everything and now I know that I don’t know what I would do without him. Because I know he doesn’t love me back. Not like that.

Just as a partner, Brennan.

-T.B

>From the Journal of Seeley Booth

03/--

Something is wrong with her. Has been for two days now. She won’t even argue back with me. Hasn’t asked to drive. Just pushed around the food on her plate at lunch. God, I offered to listen to Tibetan Throat Singers on the way to court. To see if I could get her to smile just once today. She’s not smiling anymore. I know that I am supposed to stay in partner mode. But I don't like this.

What’s going on in that brain of yours, Bones?

--B.

I’m officially addicted. Cannot seem to quit typing for the life of me. But off to spend the afternoon with some friends who keep wondering where I've been lately. Will probably post again later in the weekend. Must go convert friends to Bones fans so that they will understand.

Hope you like where this is headed. --belle

BBBB

March --, 20—

>Brennan’s Journal

The last couple days have been very surreal. How can a person dread having to spend time with someone and but then be happy when they finally walk through the door? I don’t know. And no, I don’t really dread spending time with him. It is just that it is hard to get perspective. I’ve always felt safe and comfortable around him. Could always say what I was thinking and know that even if I got it wrong again, we would eventually figure it out. Now, I don’t know what to say, how to act. He’s made it so clear where he stands. I’d better stop moping around though before he really starts to wonder if I have gone around the curve. We still have the cases to work, victims and families to help. Yes, that is what’s important. It’s what we have in common. Just focus on the work, Brennan.

--T.B.

March --, 20—

Thought that things could not go wrong since Parker was going to be there. Booth has Parker with him this week while Rebecca is out-of-town. So I didn’t think it could be awkward when he asked if we could move the paperwork session to his place. Order in some food, keep an eye on Parker and finally get through the rest of the reports on the Rollins case. Simple. At least it was at first. We all sat around the table together, trading take-out cartons. The most relaxed I have been in days, I even found myself laughing when Parker tried to show me the right way to eat noodles. Apparently, you are supposed to “slurp” them up. He was so earnest, that I just had to try it. Must have looked pretty silly, because Parker started giggling and Booth just got this weird expression on his face. But there was something about the whole thing was just very—nice.

Later, we cleared the dining table and began working on the files. Booth had set up Parker at the counter with paper and crayons so he could do paperwork just like Daddy. We were all settled in, everyone working away. It was so interesting to see the mirroring behavior between the two of them. Booth would lean back to stretch, and seconds later so would Parker. Booth would crumple a piece of paper and then I could hear Parker do the same. Fascinating. I have read volumes about father-son interaction and behavior modeling, but seeing them together like that was so much more interesting. I must have been staring, because Booth looked up and asked why I was sitting there smiling instead of filling out forms. Then he leaned over to whisper that it was not that he minded, it was nice to see me smiling again.

And that is where it began to unravel. He was so close and there’s was no blaming it on pheromones this time. Looking at him there, close enough to breathe in his scent, I was just lost. Until a little tug on my sleeve brought me back to my senses. I looked down to see Parker standing beside me, holding a notebook by it’s cover in one hand. For a second, I thought maybe he just wanted to show me his drawings. Until he asked why I was kissing his Daddy. I could feel the blood rising to my face as I tried to explain that I wasn’t kissing his father, looking at Booth for help. How do you talk about these things with a four year old? All the while feeling guilty because kissing his father was exactly what I had been thinking about. I was starting to think the kid had the same uncanny ability to read people as his father, when I noticed what Parker was now holding up in his other hand. See he says, you were kissing Daddy, Dr. Bones.

It was the picture from the boardwalk. Roxy in her red dress kissing Tony. Me, kissing Booth. I turned to stare at him, asking myself why he would keep that picture.

--T.B.

***

>From the Journal of Seeley Booth

03/--

I wanted to crawl under the table when Parker held up that picture. The look on her face. I told her that I would explain. Just let me get Parker ready for bed and I would explain. And I was going to, finally. Having her here tonight, seeing how good she was with Parker, it felt like we were a little family. Seeing her laughing and smiling again, I knew that I didn’t want that to go away. Any of it. Maybe we could make it work.

It seemed to take forever to get Parker ready for bed. He didn’t like the pajamas his mother had sent over with him. Wanted a bed time story. A glass of water. For me to tell Dr. Bones that she was really good at slurping noodles.

We were in the middle of “Curious George Solves the Case” when I thought I heard the click of a door closing.

When I got back, she was gone.

--B.

BBBB

This took a little longer than expected. Kept trying to work in some funny moments, until musie threatened to hold future entries hostage if I didn't quit messing around with her ideas. Tough little sprite tonight. So, here we go, as Mdme. Muse originally intended. -belle

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>From Brennan’s Journal

March --, 20—

Part of me still can’t believe that he’s here. Asleep now, in my bed. When I left his apartment yesterday, I came so close to getting it wrong again. But in the end, I didn’t. We didn’t. We finally got it right. So very, very right. And now he’s here, just a few feet away.

Too happy, too amazed to try to sleep. Knowing what it it’s like to be that close to him. Never in my life have I felt so much a part of someone. Lying there in his arms tonight, listening to his heartbeat after he drifted away to sleep, I knew that I would never be able to frame this in terms of physiological reactions, biological urges or even anthropologic inevitabilities. And for the first time in my life, that's okay. There are just some things that don't have to be defined in order to have meaning.

And this almost never happened. Even now, I remember how I felt, sitting there at the table, still holding that picture as I listened to the sound of his voice from the other room. I knew why a man like Booth would keep that photograph. He can see the value and emotions attached to inanimate objects that I don’t always see. My mother’s earring. Jasper. Fred and Ginger. So, if he kept this picture, logically it had to be because it meant something to him. That day had to mean something to him. I had to mean something to him. For once, I understood. And I ran.

I know. Not rational. I realize that the man that I love, may...does…love me and I run. Spent half the night arguing with myself. Was still doing it as I arrived at the lab. Parked and just sat there in the car, talking to myself. Quit hiding. Stop being afraid that someone is going to leave you again, that someone is going to hurt you again. Take a chance, Temperance. You’ve dealt with serial killers, faced being buried alive and have survived. You’ve been strong enough to flip a grown man to the ground, poke an evil voodoo priest in the eye, and shoot the man threatening your partner’s life. You are strong enough to trust that he could love you.

As I was reaching for my phone, ready to tell him everything, there was a knock on the window of the car. When I looked up and saw him looking at me through the glass, I knew it was time. I stepped out of the car and stood in front of him. Time to stop running.

He started to say that he thought we needed to talk, but I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Talk. Think. Talk. Think some more. It hadn’t gotten us anywhere. I reached out, resting my hand against his chest. When he went silent, I wrapped my fingers in the fabric of his shirt, pulled him close, and kissed him. Not a partner kiss. Not a guy kiss. Not a Roxy kiss. This was me, telling him that I trusted him. That I loved him too.

And even as I watch over him now, resting so peacefully, waiting for the moment when his eyes open, I know that I always will.

--T.B.

Well, the jujubes and red vines may have backfired. Massive sugar induced hysteria has musie singing and dancing around living room in beaded evening gown and cowboy boots. For the past hour and half she’s been alternating between “I’m Every Woman” and “Thong Song”. And folks, that last part is as disturbing as it sounds. But on the plus side, the bribe worked, well sort of…it’s more like a compromise…

And this is the part where I have to ask forgiveness…the only way to get past our little...giant… roadblock was to go around it…So no journal entry from Booth about their first, um, rendezvous. I know, it’s cheating to just skip around it, but we were about to come to blows over it and musie says she knows karat-tay…--belle

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>Booth’s Journal

……………that secret lasted about 3 min.Were arguing at lab. About why it’s not a good idea to run into crack houses after suspects w/o me. She blurts out that just bec we are sleeping together doesn’t mean…Mean what? Don’t know, bec half the squint squad heard the whole thing, and decided to chime in right then. Hodgins gives me this rubber band. Somethng about anger mgmt. Said it looked like I might need it more than he did. And of course, Zach starts asking about… well, prob shouldn’t have shot the rubber bnd at him. But H was right about the anger mgmt. Did feel better…….

>Brennan’s Journal

……..….. he thought I didn’t understand, but I did. “Cat out of the bag”. Idiom used to mean disclosing a secret. One of first known times in print was in 1700’s in regards to the exposure of a fraud involving government bonds. Believed though to have originated when vendors at earlier village markets would attempt to substitute a cat for a pig. Or with storing a cat-of-nine-tails in a muslin bag. Interesting history actually. Never got to really explain all of it though because Booth seemed more interested in…

Almost did again didn’t I?

I guess really do need to practice not giving away all of our secrets. Otherwise, Angela is going to have a field day if I keep spilling the peas.

Booth was right though. It was much more interesting than the etiology of idioms……….

BBBB

I know it’s not much but its hard to concentrate around here…she’s moved on to her catalog of Spice Girl songs...but please let me know if you think I should continue or just shove this one back under that big concrete slab of writer’s block…

Thanks guys, for the positive response. Do have to say it feels good to be writing these journal entries again. Things are finally quiet around here...rubble from writer’s block has been cleared. Musie is not allowed to download anymore music without permission...So have been able to produce a grand total of four journal entries. Hope you like--belle

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>Brennan’s Journal

……told me that Zach is dating someone new. Zoë, I think. Hope this one is better than that skinky Naomi. That woman had no appreciation for what an amazing scientific mind he has. Do have to say that I like the symmetry of our little group now. Me and Booth. Angela and Hodgins. Zach and Zoë. All the couples do make for a stronger social dynamic, doesn’t it? Will have to ask B. if we should all go out together some time……………

………eventually Booth said that he would talk to him. Maybe. If he had to. Zach just had so many questions about handling this relationship with Zoë, and I felt bad that I didn’t try more to help him. For some reason, it just felt awkward. So I thought it would be a much better idea for Booth to talk to him. Zach does look up to him. A little male bonding would be good for him. Build his confidence about initiating the physical part of his new relationship. Even suggested that B give him some pointers. Maybe describe that move that he does, that thing where he….but, Booth didn’t seem to like that idea so much. In fact, he got a little pale. Was worried that he might not be feeling well. He must have been okay though. When he left tonight he said he was on the way to the hardware store. Something about being prepared.

Hardware? Must be a male bonding thing.

***

>Booth’s Journal

………best to be prepared. Figure will end up bldng a new deck or something for W after this discussion w/Zach. Wonder if I could just take Z to Wyatt. Cut out the middle-man?

She’d be disappointed. Proof that I’m crazy about her,that I am actually considering this……..

***

>Booth’s Journal

………tried. Really did. Took him to the diner for guy talk. Spent the first 5 min explng guy talk. Asked about the girl. Whch he took as cue to ask the ‘most appropriate manner to introduce the subject of positional preference when…’ Tried to tell myself. Doing this for Bones. Until he asks if in my exp if one was preferred over another. My cue to leave. Guy talk, Zach. Guy talk. Not…whatever the h_ll that was….

Did rembr to do that open hand pat on the shldr thing she’s always telling me to do. Hope she’s not too disappnted.

***

>Brennan’s Journal

Zach seems very pleased that Booth took the time to talk with him. He even told Hodgins about it today. I was so happy for Zach. He tries so hard to fit into the outside world. However, I fail to understand why Hodgins seemed to find the whole thing very amusing. Said he would have liked to have been a fly on the wall during that conversation. Entomological metaphors are not any easier to understand that the regular ones. What exactly is the benefit of being an insect on a wall? But I will assume that is a good thing considering that the conversation must have gone very well. Zach would not be this proud to have been included if it had been too awkward.

I have to think of some way to reward Booth for doing this. Maybe Angela has some ideas…………………

Well, here we go. Booth’s reward. With a little homage to all of those syrup aficionados out there. --belle

>Brennan’s Journal

………….Ange swore to me that he would like the surprise. At first, I thought it was a silly idea. But the others she suggested were much more complicated. And messy. So I went with this one. Decided to be spontaneous. Went right down my checklist to make sure that everything was perfect. Light candles. Turn on nice romantic music. Put on one of his white dress shirts, strategically unbuttoned. Add flashy red tie. Prepare to greet him at the door wearing nothing else but a smile. All per Angela’s suggestion. Except for a pair of his socks. Not on the list, but my feet were cold. But I don’t think it ruined the effect.

Still, don’t think I will tell Angela that little detail. Wasn’t so sure I was going to be sharing any with her, in fact. Since she left out one of her own. The one about being careful to make sure that the person you hear approaching the door is Booth. Not the guy delivering the chinese food that he’d ordered on the drive home.

Before you open the door.

***

>Booth’s Journal

………thought would have nice quiet night at home. Hot food to arrive rght after I get there. Game on the tube. Just nice and quiet.

Instead walk up to find very stunned delvry guy standing in front of my apt. Kid never said a word excpt “lucky, lucky man”. Had no idea what was going on. Until I walked inside and saw her. Her face bright red and her in nothing but... Who cares if food got cold and missed a game that went into trip OT. But was a little concerned when she first brght out that bottle of syrup………..

***

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

………… decided to forgive the oversight in the plan considering that fact that he really did like the surprise. Even tried one of her other ideas. The one with the syrup. She was right again too. Messy isn’t always a bad thing……..

***

>Booth’s Journal

………..will never hear the end of this, and no one but me to blame. I just thought—well, its just that Angela is always making those comments. Three of us were having coffee, and she had already joked about me not being able to order delvry frm China Gardens ever again. Then Ang. passes this bakery box over. Asks—--sticky buns, Booth? Swear she had this look on her face, like she knew. w/o thinkng, open my big mouth to say how very funny that was, guess she told you about the syrup too? Complete silence. Then I hear—No, Booth. You just did……………

Laughter! It is like music to my ears. So happy you enjoyed that last bit. I know that I don't always respond directly, but each and every response is so appreciated.

Short entry tonight. Bit of a transition. Read, review, hope you like!—belle

>Booth’s Journal

Thought W was supposed to be helping. At beg. of session this a.m. he offers coffee. And wld I perhaps like a breakfast pastry? Now, I know the man had no way of knowing. But it was just the day aftr the stickybun fiasco. Had gotten follow-up comment from Hodgins about whipping cream. Zach thinks we are friends now, gives me a warning about the high sugar content of processed syrup. Just had enough. After a min., felt bad about being so rude. Until he asks— surely pastry doesn’t fall into the same category as plastic clowns? Very cute. Button-pushing shrinks. Yeah, that helps. Like I’m really going to shoot the danish.

Have to give him credit though. Got me started explning about the lines. Had finally jumped across the one line w/both feet. No regrets there, far from it. But now, everyone seems to know everything. It feels like there are no lines.

And being W, nat. he disagrees. Apparently, I have plenty of lines. Keeping us boxed into the same environmt. Had made the lab and the cases and the squints part of the comfort zone for the relationship, and now there were growng pains. That’s what had me so stressed. Comfort zone? Is he kidding? Defensive jokes aside, perhaps I s/b more willing to share more of my life w/her, he says. Outside the cases and the lab. Expand the ‘emotional space’.

Starting to understnd why she feels the way she does abt psych. But if this is something that could help make this work, well—I have to try. I love her.

Well, I honestly don't know what to say about these entries. So here we go...--belle

BBBB

>Booth’s Journal

It was only two of them, and they were only in town for a layover on the way to another assignment. Quick drink, bite to eat. I would be able to tell W. that I followed through. And it wouldn’t be long enough to find that much trouble. Trial run. Sounds like a good plan doesn’t it?

Think again. The thing is, you don’t choose two guys that you have known since boot camp, add a few beers and introduce them to your—to Bones. Who never met a question she didn’t like to ask.

I tried to give them a heads up. But I don’t think they knew what hit them.

Let’s see. By the time we left, she knew about how I almost ended up discharged from the Army when I had just made it into the Army. She knew about Ray.

And, God help me, they told her about the nickname.

***

>Brennan’s Journal

I’ll admit I was surprised that he asked me to go along. He’s always so quick to shut down any talk about his time in the military.

I really liked Deacon and Luke.

And I learned more about Booth than he’s been willing to let on to. All I had to do was ask the two of them what Booth was like back then, and they just started talking.

First, Deacon had this picture of them together at a ceremony. All of them looked so young in their dress uniforms. At first glance, it was just like seeing my Booth, looking very, very dashing in that uniform. But after a moment, I could see a very different Booth in that picture. One that wasn’t yet trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But I didn’t get to dwell on that very long. Because the next words that I heard come out of Luke’s mouth were “Tighty Whitey Serenade” and I just had to find out what that meant……

***
>Booth’s Journal, continued

…I still need to thank them for letting that one out. H_ll, I am still looking for a way to pay them back for setting me up in the first place.

Mean thing to do to a kid. They told me it was a tradition, a little hazing ritual each year for the guy that scored the lowest on the first target practice. Promised that Sarge was used to it. Even liked being included.

Just make sure to sing that song as loud as you can, and make sure that you dedicate it to Sam.

Which is how I ended up on the Sarge’s front lawn at 3 a.m. with a bunch of flowers in one hand, a six-pack in the other. In my underwear. Serenading a drill sergeant named Sam with a little song they guys made up called “My Favorite Body Parts”. A song made up by a bunch of half-drunk kids, so you can probably imagine the content.

And you’d probably find it funny if it wasn’t you singing it.

If the Sarge’s name hadn’t been Frank.

And his daughter’s name hadn’t been Samantha.

His 16-year old daughter.

***

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

Once I saw his face, I felt really bad for laughing so hard. The poor guy looked like he couldn’t decide whether to throw a punch or just crawl under the table.

I couldn’t resist one question though. If the person that scored the lowest at target practice ended up serenading the Sergeant—why was it Booth? He was a sniper. I’d seen him shoot.

Apparently, the Sarge was also the primary rifle instructor for the base.

***

>Booth’s Journal, continued

…..which is how Ray-Ray’s name came up. I wish it hadn’t. I don’t like remembering Ray. I don’t how quiet we all get, right before someone tells me that I did all I could. Because I didn’t.

But talk about Sarge and you are going to talk about Ray. Besides me, the only one Sarge was tougher on was Ray. Never did find out what Ray did to make him that angry. But the two of us spent enough time on that range being yelled at by one ticked off drill sergeant to end up in sniper training. To end up being friends.

Luck would have it that Ray and I stayed paired up through a good many missions. Went through h_ll together.

But I guess Ray wasn’t so lucky to have me there. Maybe if it hadn’t been me, someone else could have saved him….

***

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

That was the only time that the three of them were quiet at the same time. I wanted to ask who this Ray person was. But the look in Booth’s eyes. I had seen that look before. Odd, but it was the same look he had after Epps fell.

Whoever Ray was, Booth felt responsible for what happened to him.

***

>Booth’s Journal, continued

We gave a toast to Ray and were just sitting there, dwelling on it.

Then Deke asks her if I had told her my nickname.

Ever since she found out about the whole nickname-opposite meaning thing she has been relentless about trying to find out. I tried to explain that there was no need for her to know, since she already knew the other side of the equation, so to speak.

Still, she was determined.

And evidently, neither Deke or Luke understand universal sign language for shut the h_ll up.

Because they said it. Loudly. In unison.

Which is when we made our exit.

***

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

It was really quiet on the way home. Booth just drove. I couldn’t get a word out of him other than that he was tired. I thought he was upset about them telling me the name. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with it. It’s from a nursery rhyme, sure. But if you extrapolate the inference, the opposite meaning, then I would think he would be pleased.

Then he pulled to the side of the road, but still didn’t say anything. He must have felt safe in the shadows, without the headlights and street lamps to show his face. Because suddenly,he started talking.

At first all he said was that they didn’t know why they were there. The brass never bothered to tell them. Need to know. All they needed to know was who to shoot.

He was quiet again. This time, I knew to wait. Knew that he was trying to find a way to say this. I could see his hands tightening on the steering wheel..

He felt something was wrong about it before they stepped off the plane. Even the air felt strange.

He should have turned around right then. But orders are orders, right?

They waited and watched for two straight days in the middle of the jungle without a sign. And then it all went to pieces in less than a minute.

Suddenly they were everywhere. He and Ray could not keep up. As fast as they would bring one down, there were two more to take his place.

And then Ray was shot. In his right hand. His gun hand. He had no way of defending himself.

Which is when Booth saw the gun. The gun and the blank eyes turn in Ray’s direction. He ran, he tried to get there in time. To shield him.

Until he caught a bullet in the leg and fell. Fell face first right across Ray’s chest. Just in time to see his eyes stop moving.

That is what Booth sees when he thinks about Ray. The way that his eyes just stopped moving.

All I could do was hold him and cry as he cried. He was mourning his friend. I was mourning the Booth that I saw in Deacon’s picture. Because now I knew where he’d picked up part of that weight he carries around.

I knew better than to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he did everything he could. That he wasn’t responsible for what happened to Ray. Not because I didn’t think that’s true. But because he doesn’t think it’s true. No matter what was said, Booth will always carry the weight of Ray’s death with him. It’s part of who he is.

All I can do is help to carry the weight when it gets to be too much.

And to help ease the tension when he realizes what he’s said and gets self-conscious.

After we were driving again, after he had made the unnecessary apologies for getting so emotional, I said the only thing I could think of—

“So, um, Booth. Wee Willie Winkie?”

He looked over at me. His eyes still red and swollen.

I thought I’d said the wrong thing. Until he smiled. And then he laughed out loud.

***

Now paro, you really know how to get a girl typing!lol

Really though, sorry it has taken so long. The thing about musie is that she pretty much has a mind of her own. She got her sammich, but then became entranced by some basketball game. Says that she and the others have a pool going, but I think I heard a little too much about sweaty men and their “musc-les” to believe that's all that was going on...

But anyhoo, finally managed to wrestle away the remote, popped in a Season 1 DVD, and commenced to writing. So here we go. Don't know if it's snort-worthy but hopefully there's a giggle in there somewhere--Ana

BBBB

>Booth’s Journal

I know it shouldn’t be that big a deal.. But do you have any idea what it’s like to go through boot camp being called….It could have been worse though. One poor kid was Jolly—as in Jolly Green Giant.

Still was glad to hear her say it. That was a first. But it meant that she didn’t feel the need to walk on eggshells. After my little breakdown, she didn’t see me as weak. And as hard as it was to talk about him, seeing pity on her face would have been worse.

Ray was--—no. Don't need to talk about that anymore. Even if Wyatt says the sharing was good. Keep it going.

Keep it going? Wasn’t that enough?

What’s next?

***

>Brennan’s Journal (the next day)

That’s it. I’m never going to get my gun back.

I suppose I should have told him about the concealed weapon permit before now.

***

> Booth’s Journal

She. Shot. My. Car.

***

>Brennan's Journal, cont.

…don’t know why he’s so mad. It was just the fender. A nick, really.

The guy was getting away. I wanted to help. It’s not like I was going to really hurt him. Just snip his wings.

***

>Booth's Journal, cont.

The car.

Big fat hole in the side of the car.

How did you miss seeing a parked car, Bones?

***

>Brennan, cont.

The car just got in the way. I did help though. We did catch the guy.

***

>Booth, cont.

So what if we got the creep.

She shot my car.

***

>Brennan, cont.

...this thing about cars? I don't get it. He just kept rubbing his hand over the car, telling “her” not worry. Everything would be okay. She was still drivable. He would make sure she was fixed up as good as new.

I probably could have picked a better time to point out that inanimate objects don't have genders.

Or to ask if I could drive "her" back.

When musie first suggested this little metaphor, I told her it sounded a little strange. Then she got this scary look in her eyes and…well, let’s just say I won’t make that mistake again. So without further ado, here is the latest diary entry, hope you enjoy. –Ana

>Brennan’s Journal

He called it “vegging-out”. Vegetating. What? Be like a vegetable….how is that a good thing? Sit and not think. No worries, no work, no skeletons. Be still and take in the moment. I didn’t think it sounded like all that much fun. Don’t know if I’ve ever just…

>Booth’s Journal

Simple idea. Nice quiet afternoon. No new cases, no new psychos. Car was back good as new. So kick back on the couch, put our feet up. Slide a DVD into the machine. Put my arm around my girl and just enjoy the moment.

Except for the little war at the video place over subtitles, it was working. Swear I even felt her relax for a few minutes. Didn’t know anything was going on in that head of hers until the bad guy got up after a kick to the head and she didn’t say anything about…

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

…lost interest in the movie after the third time the hero unrealistically recovered from a fight with his opponent. Really, tell me when was the last time a person actually withstood a fracture to the parietal and then stood up making jokes about somebody’s “mama”? I knew the French movie would have been much better.

It was still nice though. Sitting there, tucked against him. Listening to the rhythm of his breathing. Really peaceful, comfortable.

Then I noticed them and I started thinking. Which, being Booth, he noticed……

>Booth’s Journal, continued.

……socks? She was pointing at our feet, propped on the coffee table with this worried look on her face. I didn’t see what the big deal was…

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

…had occurred to me, looking at our feet there next to each other. His socks—bright red and blue stripes. My socks—plain, white cotton. One very bold and flashy. The other very sensible, utilitarian. Boring. It started to worry me that they were so different. That we were so different. He’s flashy ties and belt buckles. I’m lab coats and latex gloves. Our approach to everything is so…We couldn’t even choose a movie without arguing……not to mention faith vs. science, and all of the rest of it. How could we possibly think that this was going to work?

>Booth’s Journal, continued

….finally decides to use a metaphor, and that was it? Almost laughed, until I saw her face. She was serious. Tried to explain that she was over-analyzing, that she needed to take a deep breath. We were fine.

She wasn’t getting it, was still trying to explain how the socks meant we were too different—so, I did the only thing I could think of and hoped she understood.

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

….took off his socks, then mine, and tells me to look carefully, tell him what I saw. Four bare feet? What did that explain? I didn’t understand….

>Booth’s Journal, continued

The socks thing she thinks she gets— but that she didn’t. So, I tried to put it into terms that she would understand...

>Brennan’s Journal, continued

…and was tracing the bones along the top of my foot with his fingertips. Explaining that things like the flashy socks or plain white cotton didn’t matter. It was simply the outer covering. That underneath, things were the same. Bones, muscles, tendons....

>Booth’s Journal, continued

So what if we seemed different at first glance. Inside, the structure, the things that matter—they’re the same. With that, even if it was always easy…


>Brennan’s Journal, continued

…we can find a way make this work.

It took awhile, but finally, a new entry. Thanks for hanging in there. Think musie and I may have solved our little problem. I made the mistake of telling her she couldn’t ride along in the car. Not trying to be mean, but as much as I love the idea of seeing a man in uniform, I just dreaded the day that I would have to explain to a state trooper that I missed that stop sign officer because the muse and I were having a little discussion about sticky buns or wee willie winkie. Can also picture the subsequent radio dispatch for the little men in white coats. But as it turns out, the forty-five minute commute to work is one of musie’s favorite times to show up. So we now have our rules. I drive, she talks. She chooses the radio station. Well, before I babble on enough that the intro is longer than the diary entry, here we go. Oh-and I hope it’s okay, I borrowed ‘Boothy Boo’….many thanks to whoever started that one—just love it. . -Ana

***

>Brennan’s Journal

…had to hurry to move the furniture out of the way, clear enough space to make sure no one got hurt. He didn’t seem too sure about this, and I wasn’t going to let him back out. It had taken months to get him to agree to try….

>Booth’s Journal

…why I agreed. Probably had something to do with that black lacy thing she had on last night. Bet she had that planned…

>Brennan

…for the record, I did try to get him to do the stretching exercises before we started. Does he realize how many injuries are caused by lack of preparation before vigorous activity? Plus, I tried my best to get him out of the jeans and t-shirt, but would he listen…

>Booth

…thought all of the talk about stretching and my clothes was overkill until she started going on about basic and advanced positions. What exactly was I getting myself into?

>Brennan

…do have to give him credit. He really did try, but couldn’t focus on his breathing and kept losing his balance…

>Booth

…so there I am. Both hands and feet flat on the floor, butt sticking straight up in the air. What was that one called? Downward facing donkey? Because I sure felt like a complete jacka…

>Brennan

…not Central Comedy Hour or whatever. That donkey comment was uncalled for. Yoga is meant to be taken seriously. I did feel little guilty for being so tough on him when he tried the Virabhadrasana and…

>Booth

…warrior pose? Hard to feel like much of warrior when you trip over your own feet and end up flat on your face. And not only did I hit the mat hard, I hit my shoulder going down. Wasn’t that bad, just a twinge, but leave it to Bones…

>Brennan

…saw him rubbing his shoulder when he stood back up. At first, I assumed he was trying to get out of the rest of the session. Well, I guess I surprised him then when I went along…

>Booth

…almost ended up back on the mat. Did my Boothy Boo get a little boo-boo? Wanted to ask her where that came from, but then she offered to…

>Brennan

…just meant it to be a little shoulder massage to help relax the muscle, make sure that he wasn’t really hurt. Those shoulders are very distracting though. Broad. Well-defined musculature. Perfect specimen, really. Little wonder that we never finished the rest of the work-out.

All said, I think I’ve convinced him that yoga is very good for you…

>Booth

…in the end, I think I proved my point. Yoga isn’t the only way to relieve tension…..

Starting to feel like I am picking on these two a bit, but this one was just too much fun to imagine, so I gave into temptation. –Ana

***

>Brennan’s Journal

…have to admit that I was a little insulted at first. Yes, we do regular couple things. In the end though, I understood what Angela was trying to say. I think. During a dinner date last week at Le Coeur de Raison, a man was choking on his braised asparagus and I performed the Heimlich Maneuver. In the middle of a picnic in Rock Creek Park, Booth chases down a purse-snatcher. That’s the way things seem to happen for us.

As I explained to her though, we do spend quiet, quality time together as well. Just the other day we watched a movie at his place. Yoga at mine yesterday. Nice, ordinary couple things. Quality time.

***

>Brennan’s Journal. The next day.

We experiment all the time. It shouldn’t have been a problem…

>Booth’s Journal

I had a plan. I seem to have a lot of plans lately. Maybe that is something I need to think about…

>Brennan

…it started with a case, two sets of bones, and we still hadn’t determined what had happened to them. We were both finding it very frustrating that we weren’t making progress. That must be the reason that things got so far out of hand…

>Booth

…things got a little crazy because she insisted that whoever killed those two people had to be cops. She talks to me about jumping to conclusions, but she wouldn’t let go of that one. So, I decided to prove it to her. Should have known to stop right there. But, no, had to be the big, bad FBI agent with the…

>Brennan

…handcuffs? I was skeptical. However, Booth insisted he could prove that a cop would never have cuffed those two people together in that way…

>Booth

….so I put the cuffs and the keys on the desk. Pretty much dared her to try it, prove me wrong…

>Brennan

…sitting there on the floor, arms handcuffed to the metal door handle above us. I had to admit he had a point…

>Booth

…thank you very much. And felt pretty proud of myself for not saying I told you so more than once. The nuns always said that pride goes before the fall…

>Brennan

…once he was done gloating, I asked him to go ahead and unlock the cuffs. We had work to do now that the original theory was…

>Booth

…what did she mean unlock the cuffs? Didn’t she picked up the key when she took the cuffs from the desk…

>Brennan

…this was not good. Any minute….

>Booth

…were surrounded by squints. Very unhelpful squints. Angela smiles and says--quality time, Bren? What was that supposed to...

>Brennan

…Zack just takes a sip of coffee and says, “Interesting”….

>Booth

….squints know 47 different languages and suddenly no one understands the words desk and key…

>Brennan

…thank goodness for Hodgins. Though Booth did have to promise him a look at the ‘secret’ FBI files on the Kennedy…

>Booth

…so next time I have a plan…

>Brennan

…I think I understand what Ange meant…

Okay...was going to keep editing just a little more, but started to think about the overthinking...and well, that's just an endless cycle ...So, here's the latest entry, with thanks to paro for her sage advice. Hope you enjoy. -Ana

***

>Booth’s Journal

….thought I had the perfect solution, and it was right in front of me all of this time. Couldn’t believe that I didn’t think of it before…

>Brennan’s Journal

…didn’t understand what the urgency was, but he was practically obsessed with the idea. I didn’t think it was so critical …

>Booth

…when the Jeffersonian has an entire wing devoted to this stuff. All of the American classics right there under one roof…

>Brennan

…is not a big deal. If this Fonz person had discovered a new species or Archie Bunker had invented a new technique for macerating a skeleton, then maybe I would have been more inclined to…

>Booth

…American pop culture in a museum disguise. Thought that maybe that would help her be more open to the whole idea of…

>Brennan

...viewing the exhibits as indications of changes in American social stratification. I was trying to explain the perspective to Booth, but he was distracted by the Charlie’s Angels exhibit. I didn’t understand because those women were poor examples of law enforcement officers. You can’t chase criminals in those shoes. And those skimpy outfits. Where did they keep …

>Booth

….her reflection in the glass. Something had her worked up. I heard ‘objectification of women’ at least twice. But all I could think was that Farrah had nothing on her. Especially when she gets that look in her eye. When she’s talking about an idea that means something to her. And there I was trying to change her. Who cares if she doesn’t know…

>Brennan

…. why he was ready to leave. Confusing, but he didn’t explain. He would only say that he didn’t need to look at make-believe when reality was so much better. I knew that one. Reality TV, right? Like that survivor game I read about, with the tribes and alliances. Fascinating concept, artificially created social microcosms that…

Weeeelllll...I know it has been, um, just a little while since I posted an entry for Diary...and i hope you'll be patient with me as musie and I get back in the groove for these...but i will do my best to make sure that it is not quite so long until the next time...

thanks to all of you that posted your encouragement to bring this one back...and...

to the ladies of da' bunch...thanks for ALL of your support...and...

this entry is 'specially dedicated to pyro, my diary-guru who has helped to get this one going again...

now, with all of that said...here goes nothin'...hope you enjoy..

Ana

***


>Brennan’s Journal

It was not my fault.

>Booth’s Journal

It was not my fault. How could I be responsible for her…

>Brennan

…waking up in a bad mood? I admit that one of my favorite thing in life now is falling asleep with him beside me. But the key is—being able to fall asleep! It is a little difficult though to actually sleep when he is…

>Booth

…snoring all night. Kind of all delicate and lady-like. But it is still…

>Brennan

…snoring. He’s over there sleeping while I….

>Booth

…keep denying it. Maybe one night I should record her. She is always talking about empirical evidence. She’d be mad, but she wouldn’t be able to deny…

>Brennan

…that he was supposed to set the…

>Booth

…alarm clock is her thing. She is the one that had to…

>Brennan

…get up early for a meeting with my publisher. So not only was I tired and running behind, but had to once again clean whiskers from the sink because he could not manage to do that after shaving this morning. How many times have I asked…

>Booth

…for something besides scrambled tofu surprise for breakfast. A man needs his…

>Brennan

…head examined because he must have some pathological fear of putting his towel on the hook specifically designed for that purpose instead of dropping it on the floor. It seems as if every morning I am picking up socks that manage to hit the floor next to the hamper or stepping on a wet towel or…

>Booth

…car keys. Did she think that I was deliberately hiding them from her? And then the rant about her notes for her meeting. I don’t understand how…

>Brennan

…he could not get how nervous I was about this meeting. I had run out of excuses to hide the fact that writer’s block was…

>Booth

…driving me up the wall. I couldn’t believe how ready I was to get out of there just to get some peace. But of course….

>Brennan

…he’d parked behind me. Again. Then I made the mistake of trying to salvage the morning with a joke about him taking me not driving too seriously. Given my lack of comic skill that seemed to make him….

>Booth

…drive away in the opposite direction. Still found myself looking for her car in the rear view mirror. Just one last look until I…

>Brennan

…had this feeling that I had forgotten…

>Booth

…something very important. I couldn’t figure it out until…

>Brennan

…I saw the siren flashing behind me. I knew I hadn’t been speeding and after this morning was ready to give some poor traffic officer a piece of my…

>Booth

…kiss good-bye. No matter how bad the morning had been. I couldn’t start my day without kissing her before we went our separate ways. Sure. The siren may have been…

>Brennan

…the most amazing thing to have him lean in the window and kiss me like that. Toe curling moment. Ange will never have to explain what that…

>Booth

…means more than the little stuff like not having steak and eggs. I would have missed that kiss more…

>Brennan

…than anything in the world. How could I have let the minutiae of everyday life make me forget…

>Booth

…how much I love that woman.

>Brennan

…how much I love that man.

Thanks to everyone for the reviews....and apologies for rewarding all of those wonderful comments with another delay. But here it is...the next entry....and I can say that the next will be ready to post before long! Hope that you enjoy! -Ana

***

>Booth’s Journal

…thought that giving her that key was turning out to be a good thing. She called from my place. Said that she had something special planned. Couldn’t wait. I could tell from the tone in her voice that I…

>Brennan’s Journal

…felt I needed to do something to shake things up. Not that anything is wrong. Yet. But I can’t help but worry that we’ve been allowing ourselves to settle into a routine. There is nothing wrong with routine. Routine can be very comfortable. But I find myself wanting to make sure that we still…

>Booth

…thought it was going to be amazing. We’ve been together for months now, but all I have to do is think about her and it makes me…

>Brennan

…certain that everything was in place before he arrived. Lights dimmed. Candles. Music. A nice bottle of wine. Macaroni and cheese in the oven for later. Short, strappy, lacy outfit that was actually not very comfortable. I hoped it was worth it. The sales clerk had said that it was guaranteed to make a man forget his own name. I have to admit that when I saw myself in the mirror, I did start to feel…

>Booth

…sexy little numbers that she wears sometimes. Though I never give her the chance to…

>Brennan

…wear it very long anyway if the plan went as expected. Everything was in place, including me, waiting in the bedroom, when I heard the key in the lock. I kept waiting for him to appear with that look in his eye, but nothing but silence. My first thought was that he’d been distracted by the macaroni. Again. So I thought…

>Booth

…something was wrong when I saw that the door was slightly open. Not something she would ever do. With all of the creeps we deal with, my first thought was that…

>Brennan

…handcuffs and this costume would be the perfect way to get his attention. But when I walked into…

>Booth

…the apartment and saw the two of them I…

>Brennan

…thought I would die of embarrassment when I realized that…

>Booth

…my mother was standing in my kitchen listening as my half-naked girlfriend tried to explain that the handcuffs were only…

>Brennan

…getting worse the more I talked, but I couldn’t make my mouth stop…

>Booth

…giving spare keys to the two of them. Not such a good idea. Not good at all…

***

to be continued...soon...I promise...:-) --Ana

Thanks once again for your reviews and comments...i love to see that you guys are enjoying the Diary so much...

ok...now on with the show...this is a continuation of the previous entry...a little more of his mother's visit. Hope you enjoy! -Ana

***

>Brennan’s Journal

…she had been very gracious despite the circumstances, but I still took my time getting ready to face her again. As I dressed, I could hear them talking, but couldn’t make out their words. I could imagine her telling him…

>Booth’s Journal

…that she understood why I had been in such a good mood during our phone calls. Leave it to Mom to think this was funny. But this was not exactly a conversation that I wanted to have with my mother…

>Brennan

…seemed like such a refined, delicate person. I knew I hadn’t made a good first impression and had a feeling that it was going to get worse. What if she asked me about…

>Booth

…a visit to see her grandson. Not to mention that she and Dad hadn’t been able to agree on a vacation. She’d wanted to go hunting and he wanted to stay at home and putter in the garage. The debate was almost a family tradition. Dad couldn’t understand why she’d want to shoot something that looked like Bambi. Mom said that any self-respecting buck shouldn’t go around the woods with a stripper’s name and if he did he deserved to…

>Brennan

…face the music…

>Booth

…all I asked was why she hadn’t taken the shuttle like she usually did. When she started making noise about airport security, I started to get suspicious. I thought we had straightened this out after the last time. She’d promised…

>Brennan

…when I got there, I was surprised to find them arguing. At first, I thought it was because…

>Booth

…I understand that she has the right to have one, but I’ve tried to explain to her how dangerous they can be. I was just worried that..

>Brennan

…I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was telling him that the Second Amendment applied to mothers as well as sons. That had to mean…

>Booth

…that she finally stopped arguing and turned over her…

>Brennan

…gun out of her purse and handed it to him I was…

>Booth

…not really surprised to hear Bones laughing behind me. I knew if she found out she’d be thrilled. In two seconds flat they were bonding over their favorite calibers and making plans to hit the range tomorrow.

What is it with the women in my life and…

>Brennan

…guns. She likes guns! I think…

>Booth

…there’s a moment when a man knows he’s in for it. And looking at the two of them gabbing about automatics and revolvers, I knew that my life had just gotten a lot more complicated...

So glad that you are enjoying Mama Booth's visit...tho do have to say that the bambi line is an homage to a certain convo from IHBFC that keeps popping up from time to time...now, this entry continues the visit, but is a bit of a transition entry too...sooo, here we go. Hope you enjoy! - Ana

***

>The next day

>Booth’s Journal

…day started with breakfast with Mom. No minefields there right? Until I saw that she’d made pancakes. It didn’t take her long to ask why I kept so much syrup in the house. I tried to explain that we just really like our pancakes and syrup. But I don’t think she bought it…

>Brennan

…because he ended up confiscating both of our guns, we had to cancel target practice. So we…

>Booth

…were getting along like peas and carrots. With the things those two know about me, I knew it was only a matter of time before they…

>Brennan

…decided to go to my Krav Maga class together. Apparently she has been studying the technique for years. We have so much in common. I wonder why he didn’t…

>Booth

…want to hear one word about sticky buns, wee willie winkie, peter pan nightlights or the time I was six and asked about…

>Brennan

…what he was like as a child but…

>Booth

…didn’t think they would have much time for girl talk in the middle of a martial arts class, but I’d learned the hard way not to underestimate either of them. Fully expected Mom to come home and say that I needed to head to the church and the confessional as soon as…

>Brennan

…curious as I was, I understood that he would have been uncomfortable at the thought of his mother telling me…

>Booth

…that they had a nice time and that was it. Tempe explained later that…

>Brennan

…it seemed like the right thing to do. Though his mom did let something slip about a nightlight that he was used until…

>Booth

…the time was right, then we could share as many childhood memories and secrets as we wanted. When I was comfortable with that. Which made me realize how far the two of us have come. That I was actually ready for her to know more. That the timing might be right, in more ways than one.

This installment for Dear Diary is a little different from the previous entries. Rather than taking the form of journal entries, this is in chapter format with the Diary becoming a “character” in the story. There are a couple reasons that I chose to pop this out of its usual format, and I promise…all will be explained. Hope that you enjoy! – Ana

*** **** ***

The blinking cursor on the monitor seemed to be mocking her. This was the perfect opportunity to get some work done on the next chapter in her book. The lab was quiet. The one pending case that they had was in the hands of Zach and Hodgins. Once they completed their cheese and spam experiment, they would have the results they needed to move forward. Booth was tied up with a training seminar at Quantico. Perfect timing.

Except for the fact that she had not a single idea. Which she took as further evidence that muses didn’t exist. Surely a responsible muse would never keep a writer waiting for an idea?

She shook her head in disbelief. Muses? What would she be thinking next?

She placed her hands over the keyboard, and waited.

Nothing.

Sighing in frustration, she leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.

**This is all his fault. Since the day his mother left, he’s been entirely too quiet. He’s hiding something from me. I can read him like a book. Well, maybe not a book, but a pamphlet maybe. But I am getting better at being able to figure out….**

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap against the doorjamb. She looked up, half expecting to see Booth standing there, even though she knew better. Instead, she found Angela staring back at her.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Sorry, Ange. It’s just that I was….”

“Hoping to see Booth?.”

Brennan rolled her eyes, but wisely decided not to deny it. Angela would call her on the lie before the sentence was out of her mouth.

“Not now, Angela. Did you need me for something? Are they done with the spam and cheese…?”

“Umm, no. But the smell is becoming atrocious. Do you think when she approved this, that Cam realized that they were going to….”

“No, I think they left out the part about the…” Brennan’s words trailed off as she noticed the large envelope that Angela was holding and recognized a familiar scrawl across the label.

“Is that from Booth?”

Angela glanced down at the envelope as if she had forgotten she was holding it.

“Oh, right. Messenger brought it over a few minutes ago, and I thought I would…”

She was startled and then amused by the speed at which Brennan rounded her desk and grabbed the envelope from her hand.

“You know, Bren, if a person didn’t know better they might think you really did miss….”

Angela gave up. It wasn’t any fun to tease someone when they had forgotten you were there.

***

Confused, Brennan stared at the battered spiral-bound notebook on the desk in front of her. When she’d opened the envelope she’d expected a case file.

She looked back at the yellow post-it note on the front of the notebook, hoping that a second reading would provide more explanation. But there were still only two words.

Trust Me.

She flipped open the cover of the notebook, still expecting to find case notes. What she actually saw sent her into a tailspin.

***

>>From Booth’s Journal

2.0-

She broke up with Sully.

2/--
A trip to AC with Roxy. Don’t know what will be harder to resist, the casinos or her in that strapless number. There is something about the way the woman wears that dress that makes that line I’ve drawn get very blurry…

***

“He sent….why would he send me his…..”

Her words trailed off as she noticed another yellow note on the inside of the cover.

Remember. Trust Me.

She ran her fingers over his words, understanding what he was asking of her.

***

Hours had passed without her noticing. She’d read every page, every word. Some of it had made her laugh out loud. Some of it tempted her to call him and remind him that that wasn’t the way things had actually happened.There were several entries that had her wiping her eyes. More than once, she found herself so irritated that she had to stop reading for a few minutes.

But all of it….all of it made her fall in love with him all over again.

And as she re-read his last entry, she understood that he was trusting her with much more than his diary.

***

>>Booth’s Journal

06/0-

She is the most infuriating and single-minded woman that I have ever met, and she has complicated my life in more ways than one. Our days are spent bickering or standing over the decomposing remains of murder victims. In our time together, she has managed to cover me in syrup, handcuff me to a door, shoot my car, and even refer to our first kiss as a ‘guy kiss’.

But she is also the only woman that has ever challenged me, understood me and made me feel whole again. She accepts my need to find absolution for the deaths that I’ve caused in the past by finding justice for those caused by others in the present. She held me when I cried like a baby over the loss of one of my best friends, and she never told her own best friend about Wee Willie Winkie.

I know that she is full of doubt about her ability to trust in love and commitment. That her past haunts her and the future sometimes frightens her.

But I also know that my life would not have been and would never be the same without her.

Today I am sending her my journal, hoping that after reading these pages she will understand that neither of us is the same person that we were before we met. That my faith and my love for her is so strong that I trust her with everything. The thoughts and feelings that I’ve kept hidden in my journal. My heart. My future. Me.

I have only one question left.

Will she marry me?

***

Long after the others had left and the lights in the lab had dimmed, she was still there. Staring at the closed notebook resting in the center of the desk.

She’d never noticed Angela approach and then leave quietly after seeing her turning the pages with tears in her eyes. She waved away Zach and Hodgins without questioning why there were pieces of spam covering faces and lab coats.

She was waiting for one person.

***

He watched her from the doorway, waiting for a sign as to what her answer would be.

When she finally looked up and saw him there, he thought his heart would stop.

Now that he was this close to finding out, he was terrified that it would not be the answer he needed.

He waited as she silently stood and walked across the room and then held out the notebook to him.

Unable to hide the shaking in his hand, he reached out and took the journal from her. He stared at it, unable to meet her eyes, knowing that if she hadn’t said anything by now that….

He felt her hand on his arm, and then the touch of her whisper as she leaned closer.

“Trust me. Remember?”

And then he knew.

His hands raced through the pages, moving past them so quickly that he couldn’t see the words.

Not that it mattered. Right now, there was only one entry that meant anything to him.

He found the page, and his vision blurred when he saw the single word written below his final entry..

>>Yes.

*** **** ***

So…okay…well….um…this is a little hard for me to say….but this is the final Diary entry. Bringing this to a close is not an easy thing for me to do....I’ve been posting to this story almost as long as I’ve been writing fan-fics. But the timing is right for the story, the two of them are at the point of sharing with each other instead of writing in the journal and…..well,it’s just the right time.

I want to thank every one who has read, laughed, awwwww-ed and giggled along the way….and a special thanks to those who kept encouraging me to come back to this story. It has been one of my favorites to write…and all of you have been a part of making it that.

Many many hugs and thanks to Pyro for all of the entries that she has previewed and the sage advice she’s offered. Working on this would not have been the same without you chickie!

-Ana

You know I loved this and I am glad that you posted over here Ana!

Ana,

just read this one, yes I am a LOT behind..lol... but this was wonderful.. I loved it... I mut add that I was usually laughing my butt off before I even got to the entry... that musie of yours..... Freakin Funny!!!!! Billi